Tag Archives: Shame

Hair of the Dog That Bit You

1 Jan

If you’re feeling inspired and came here for some advice on resolutions, don’t be a fool. I don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions and neither do you; you’re just pretending. What you’re describing as inspiration is guilt.

That’s the problem with most of us: we get confused about our feelings. We say we love our partners, but if we’d just look a little more closely, what we really feel is hate. We say our friendships are motivated by loyalty, but they’re not: it’s usually envy (how you may feel towards me) or pity (how I may feel towards you).

I’m guessing that a fair few of you are waking rather “hungover.” You probably would describe it as a headache or tummy upset, and I’ve no doubt you are ascribing it to the copious amounts of liquor you lapped up during last night’s celebrations and/or commiserations. Of course, alcohol can eff your body up good and proper, but what are you really feeling? Regret? Shame? Impregnated?

These are the symptoms no hangover cure can help you with.  Fortunately, my insight into the true workings of the human body (including the mind) can. Follow these directions—to the letter—and you’ll feel better.

1. Look yourself in the face (you will probably need a mirror to do so).

2. Notice the regret in your eyes (indicated by a red tinge, drooping eyelids or dark circles).

3. Consider what caused that regret (this may be a specific event or just an acknowledgement of your general failure as a productive human being).

4. Notice the shame on your face (indicated by blotches on the skin, hickeys on the neck or the red itchiness around your mouth as an HSV-1 blister prepares to burst forth).

5. Consider what caused this shame (make a note to call for an STD/pregnancy test on Tuesday).

6. Comment aloud about how unattractive regret and shame look on you. If you live with someone, get them to tell you you’re hideous.

7. Drink one litre of freshly juiced kale, lemon and garlic (if items are not available—and they probably won’t be because you’re not one to plan ahead, are you—drink eight ounces of milk that has gone off—which I bet you’ve got at least a pint of in your fridge).

8. Vomit.

9. Splash cold water on your regret- and shame-stamped face.

10. Get into bed and think about things until you weep yourself to sleep.

I guarantee tomorrow you’ll wake up renewed and ready to change your life. Or at least your sheets.

The Big Reveal: Why Super-Injunctions Are Pointless

9 May

Here’s the thing about super-injunctions. They’re neither super, in nor at a junction. They make a mockery of freedom of the press and they are proven (scientifically) to be the worst way to keep a secret.

I certainly do not agree with many of the current tactics used by the press, and I find much of the gossip mongering that exists in the world quite distasteful (though, like with caviar, I will admit to engaging in it at times). However, it is much more appropriate to clarify the laws on phone hacking and punish those who have broken the law. I don’t know that we’ll ever be able to change the public’s thirst for gossip, but rich people paying a lot of money to keep their secrets is certainly not going to slow down the desire to know about others’ private lives. In fact, it’s only going to do the opposite.

People love juicy information. If you pay lots of money to keep a secret, ipso facto (look it up), that secret must be pretty damn juicy. That logic isn’t hard to follow.  So in many ways, super-injunctions just make people want to know your secret even more. Plus, once they find it out, they can judge you, not only for the secret itself (and why shouldn’t they, for clearly you are condemning your own behaviour by hiding it), but for the act of gagging the press.

And the thing is: they will find out. A super-injunction may delay it, but, let me assure you, all will be revealed. Adolf Hitler had a hell of a lot of power in his time, but did that stop us from finding out that he was 1. uni-testicular and 2. an occasional partaker in a vegetarian diet? No, that power did not keep his secrets for him.  It might be your own guilt that makes you confess. Maybe an Arabic translator will stumble across the sensational detail next to your name, while going through Osama’s papers. It might even be a careless remark made by your three-year-old child about that time he caught “Daddy doing something unseemly.” The point is: the world’s going to find out eventually.

Therefore, in the interest of encouraging other celebrities to take responsibility for their own behaviour and stop relying on their money to hide it away, I shall confess all my “dirty deeds.” I’m not proud of them (well, not all of them), but I am proud that I have neither abused the legal system to hide them nor consulted Max Clifford to deal with them.

1. Yes, I did sleep with Fidel Castro, but it meant nothing to me nor to the Cuban Missile Crisis.

2. I once paid a prostitute to the leave the area as I was expecting a foreign dignitary for tea and wanted to give the impression that my locale was whore-free.

3. Only 5% of the dancing was mine.

4. I spent some of D.B. Cooper’s money.

5. It was I who let the dogs out.

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